


Everybody Knows (Four things the Enterprise crew thought were true and one that was)

by Taverl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fanon, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gossip, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taverl/pseuds/Taverl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, everybody *knows* that..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everybody knows Sulu and Chekov were made for each other

**Author's Note:**

> Notes  
> One of the great things about fandom and fanfic is the way that it allows writers and readers to tie up loose ends or “fix” issues they may have with the original story. It’s also always interesting to see the way certain moments in a movie or series end up becoming part of fic canon or “fanon.” Every fandom has its fic tropes and conventions, some of which come directly from the source and some of which are inventions of the members of the fan community.
> 
> The purpose of this fic is to hopefully amuse you by having some good-natured fun with a few of these tropes – one of which comes directly from the original series. I’ve read (re-read and re-re-re-read) and adored stories with one or two or all of these elements and absolutely no offense - especially to Chulu fans - is intended.
> 
> Acknowledgements  
> Great thanks to Sickbay’s Ellie Pierson and my good friend Cathy for sharp-eyed beta and helpful suggestions. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

From his seat in a corner of the mess hall, Sulu watched with amusement as Chekov grinned and looked up through his lashes at the pretty lieutenant from Stellar Cartography standing next to him. If she only knew how many other women that particular look had worked on, Lieutenant Odale (Odana? Odaku?) might have declined Chekov’s offer to share a table with him. Instead, she smiled in return and the couple chose a cozy two-top that afforded them a little privacy in the midst of the lunchtime crowds.

Sulu returned his attention to his bulgogi, amazed that Chekov’s young-and-innocent act still worked even after four girlfriends in less than five months. After all, the Enterprise was really a village and information traveled faster than light among its 400 crewmembers. Gossip traveled even faster, especially among the female members of the crew. He may be an enlightened 23rd-century man, but he’s also a brother of two sisters, and Sulu knows that, while men talk, women *talk*.

Of course, so do some men, he thought, scowling as he caught sight of Tad making his way down the food line.

Tad. Sulu had to roll his eyes at the idea that he had actually slept with a guy named Tad. Who next? Biff? Chaz? Honestly, what had possessed him to go out with the asshole in the first place?

Well, he mused as he watched Tad and another officer filling their trays, he did have an ass you could serve drinks on. And no gag reflex.

But still…Tad?!

He was so deep in thought as he watched his ex…whatever and his buddy look for an open table that he was startled by the sound of a tray being set down on the table next to him. 

“Are you OK, ‘Karu?” Uhura asked as she slid into the seat on his right. She looked worried and kept glancing across the mess hall in the direction Sulu had been staring.

She must have seen his scowl as he watched Tad, so he made an effort to smile at his seatmate. Tad certainly wasn’t worth getting frown lines over, anyway. “Of course, just wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you sure?” she replied, laying a hand on his forearm, her brown eyes full of concern and…pity? Oh, God, of course Uhura had to have heard the gossip about him and Tad “No Discretion” Zewlewitzki. Seriously, no more guys with yuppie names, even if they did have washboard abs.

“Of course, Nyota.” He patted her hand quickly so she could remove it and get started on her chili fries. How she ate like that and remained so slim was a mystery to him.

Her hand stayed in place, though, and she gripped his arm tightly as she leaned in. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If you ever just need somebody to talk to, please know you can come to me at any time.”

Keeping his smile in place, he patted her hand again. “Of course, Nyota. Thank you.”

Her expression fell and Sulu began to panic at the thought that she might start crying as she continued to stare at him, her nails biting into his arm through the fabric of his shirt.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.” She glanced back across the mess hall where Tad and his companion were eating. “But you’re doing the right thing. You just need to give him time to work this out on his own.”

“Uh…” She was taking this far more seriously than he was, especially considering he and Tad had only hooked up a few times and never even went on a real date.

“He’s still young. It’s only natural that he doesn’t understand the way adult relationships work. Just keep being patient and he’ll figure it out.” Her smile was small and encouraging. And completely mystifying.

Before he could think of a response, she continued, “But still, having to work next to him all day can’t be easy on you. So, really, if you ever need to just get things off your chest, I’m here for you.” She finally released her grip and began to pat his arm gently.

He had no idea how to react to this heartfelt, if perplexing, offer. So, he was mortified when he heard himself mutter, “Tad works in Maintenance.”

Uhura pulled back slightly, her brows drawn down in confusion. “Tad who?”

OK, so maybe Tad had more discretion than Sulu gave him credit for. “Tad nobody,” he replied quickly. Damn straight.

He said, “Who were you talking about?” just as she asked, “Who were you looking at?”

“Nobody,” answered he; “Chekov,” replied she.

He felt his eyes go wide and his eyebrows reach for his hairline as he stared at her, his brain trying to process what she’d said.

She was blushing as she stammered, “I’m sorry, but you were staring at Chekov and Odake and you looked so angry… And we all know you and Chekov…”

“’You all know’ me and Chekov what? And I wasn’t staring at him, I was staring at Tad.” He felt himself losing control and in his effort to avoid shouting, he’d lowered his voice so much, that “And what’s this about me and Chekov?!” came out as little more than an angry hiss.

“But you were looking…” Uhura began scanning the other side of the mess hall and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man in a red shirt getting up from one of the tables. “Oh, is that him?” she asked, waving a hand in his direction.

Sulu gave her a short nod in response, feeling annoyed with himself for telling her about Tad in the first place. As he watched Tad go over to the drink station, he noticed that Chekov and Odake had been sitting just two tables away. Now at least he understood why Uhura thought he’d been staring at them.

“Nice ass…” she murmured as Tad returned to his table. Turning her attention back to Sulu, she began, “So, you and Chekov-“

“No,” he cut in. “And why would you and ‘everybody’ think we were in the first place?” His annoyance was fading, but he still wanted to know why people were talking about him and Chekov.

“Well, you two just have so much in common,” she replied, as if stating the obvious.

“Such as…?” he asked.

“Lots of things,” she said and he waved his hand at her as encouragement to elaborate. “Things like…” her voice trailed off.

“’Things like’ what, Nyota?” He watched as her brow furrowed in thought.

“Well, your work, for one,” she pointed out.

“We work together and both love our jobs,” he replied. “So do you and Hannity, but I don’t hear anybody talking about the two of you as a couple.”

She waved him off. “You spend a lot of time together, don’t you?” she asked.

“We do? We sit next to each other six shifts a week and eat the occasional meal together. Sometimes we play vid games. That’s about it, Nyota.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, I spend more time with you off-shift than I do Chekov.”

She nodded as she absorbed this information. “So, you’ve never thought of Chekov…?” she trailed off, sounding disappointed.

“No,” he replied with a smile. “He’s a genius at what he does, a nice guy, and I certainly consider him a friend. Maybe even a good friend. But a boyfriend?” He chuckled. “Nyota, have you ever looked at the kid?”

She glanced over to the table where Odake was apparently relating a story and Chekov listened attentively, his eyes wide and smile bright. Uhura couldn’t help grin in response. “He’s very cute,” she pointed out to Sulu.

“He is,” Sulu agreed, surprising his seatmate. “Nyota, I am capable of appreciating the fact someone is good looking without wanting to have sex with that someone,” he said with amusement.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied, “It’s just…” She gave a resigned sigh and now it was Sulu’s turn to give her a reassuring pat on the arm.

“You…and ‘everybody’ apparently… just wanted to match us up. I get it; and I am honestly touched by your concern. You’re a good friend and don’t ever think I take that for granted.” He gave her arm a squeeze and she smiled in response.

“But really… Pavel?” He shook his head as grin got even bigger. “Honey, if I wanted to date a girl, I’d date a girl.” Her answering laugh was music to his ears and he couldn’t help but join her for a few moments.

Catching her breath, she looked back over at the subject of their discussion and couldn’t stifle a snicker. “Yeah, he is a bit on the waify side, isn’t he?”

“Exactly!” he replied with a snort. “I like men. You know, big manly men in the full bloom of their manhood.” He’d barely gotten the statement out before the two of them were laughing again, any tension from the earlier miscommunication long gone.

“So,” she began, giggling, “what kind of ‘manly men’ are you on the lookout for?”

“Oh, no,” he told her sternly, “you are not going to play matchmaker for me, young lady. I’ve been catching my own since I was fifteen and I certainly don’t need your help now.”

“No matchmaking, I promise,” she replied, placing her hand over her heart. “But having another pair of eyes and ears doesn’t hurt, either, does it?” She batted her eyes at him, trying her best to keep a straight face while Sulu just shook his head.

“Just give me an idea of your preferred species, body type, personality, etcetera, and if I hear about someone, I’ll just let you know and you can take it from there.” She made a face at her now-cold chili fries, pushing the plate aside and reaching for the chocolate cake she’d gotten for dessert.

Knowing resistance was futile, he began scanning the room until his gaze quickly landed on a familiar dark head and broad shoulders, tightly clad in science blue. Leaning his elbow on the table, he propped his chin in his hand and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I would hit that so hard it would tear a hole in the space/time continuum,” he said as he watched the figure grab a tray and make his way to the food line.

Following his gaze, Uhura gasped and began coughing as she inhaled cake crumbs. Quickly downing a few swallows of water, she said, “Doctor McCoy?”

They both watched as the doctor picked his way through the food on offer, his uniform shirt straining across his back and riding up just enough to show a small patch of space-pale skin at his waist as he reached to grab something near the back of one of the cases.

Sulu turned to her, one eyebrow raised.

“OK, I see your point,” she said with a grin. “So, you like ‘em tall, dark and grumpy.”

“And taken,” he added with a resigned smile.

“Very,” she replied, nodding. “The captain would have you busted down in rank so fast you’d be scrubbing toilets before you knew what hit you.”

“If he didn’t just space me,” he agreed.

“It would be so much easier if you just went after Chekov,” she said with a mischievous grin.

He just stuck out his tongue at her and rolled his eyes for good measure. When he glanced over, Chekov and Odake were standing near the mess hall doors as if loath to end their lunch date.

As he watched Chekov and his latest conquest, Tad walked past the couple on his way out. Turning his head to look at Sulu, he gave him a wink and a leer as he left the mess.

Asshole. Sulu frowned at the empty doorway as someone put a tray down on the table next to him.

As he turned to look at the newcomer, he felt a hand grab his shoulder and give it a squeeze.

Looking into Mr. Scott’s concerned face, his stomach dropped as Scott eyes glanced back and forth between Sulu and doorway where Chekov and Odake were still standing.

“Are you OK, lad?” Scott asked earnestly.

With a groan, Sulu dropped into his hands as Uhura just threw her head back and laughed.


	2. Everybody knows there's a still in Engineering

Spock surveyed the crowded mess hall calmly, considering various ways he might broach the subject he had come to discuss once he’d located the person he was looking for. While he was in no way nervous or apprehensive, he did not anticipate the impending conversation with pleasure.

It was pleasure he felt, however, when he saw Nyota seated at a table near the back of the mess, smiling and laughing merrily. He was so captivated by her that it was several moments before he realized she was sharing the table with Lieutenant Sulu and Lieutenant Commander Scott.

Just – as he understood the saying goes – the man he was looking for.

As he approached the table, Lieutenant Sulu appeared to be relating something of great importance to Mister Scott. The latter’s expression transformed from what Spock would term “surprised” to “abashed” and then to “amused.” The man really did have unusually mobile features.

Nyota was the first to notice him. “Hello, Commander,” she said, smiling.

Mister Scott and Lieutenant Sulu ceased their conversation – something to do with Ensign Chekov, from what little he had heard – and turned their heads to look at him.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Uhura, Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Commander Scott,” he responded, nodding at each in turn.

“Care to join us, Commander?” Mister Scott asked, indicating one of the open seats with a wave of his hand.

Lieutenant Sulu checked his communicator and muttered something under his breath. Returning his attention to Spock, he said, “My apologies, Commander, but I’m due back on shift in a few minutes,” and began putting his empty dishes on his tray.

“I should be getting back, too,” Nyota said, gracefully sliding out of her seat and picking up her tray. Spock was concerned to see an untouched plate of chili fries and half-eaten piece of chocolate cake on her tray. Noticing his gaze, she grinned. “Sulu and I got to talking and I lost track of time. I’ll grab something during break.”

Nodding his understanding, she headed toward the exit, making sure her hair brushed his arm as she passed. While their relationship was not secret, they chose not to engage in obvious displays of affection while in public. As a result, he found these small, seemingly unintentional moments of physical contact extremely enjoyable.

As Nyota and Lieutenant Sulu disposed of their dishes, Spock returned his attention to Mister Scott, who was looking up at him with a wide grin. “Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Mister Spock.” Once again, he gestured the empty seat across from him and turned his attention to his lasagna.

Taking the indicated seat, Spock said, “Actually, Mister Scott, I came here to speak with you, if you do not mind me interrupting your lunch.”

Mister Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise, replying, “If you don’t mind me eating while you’re speaking, I don’t mind you speaking while I’m eating.” He took another bite of his pasta and looked back at Spock expectantly.

Spock found he was somewhat uncertain about how to proceed, but it was too late to back out now and if what he had heard was true, the issue needed to be addressed and corrected immediately.

“Mister Scott, I am not given to participate in discussions of the Enterprise personnel’s off-duty activities and personal lives. However, in the interest of maintaining the safety and morale of the crew, I make a point of keeping aware of what information is being shared amongst the crewmembers,” he began.

The chief engineer chuckled quietly and took a sip of his water. “You’re not one to gossip, but you do hear things through the grapevine. Got it, Mister Spock,” he replied with a grin.

Colloquial but succinct.

Clearing his throat, Spock began, “Mister Scott, please do not take what I am about to say as an accusation or any way meant to impugn your work, which has been exemplary.” Mister Scott’s worried look made Spock realize that perhaps his opening remark had not had the reassuring effect he’d intended. “It has been brought to my attention that several members of the crew are of the belief that there is an apparatus for the distillation of vegetable matter into alcohol aboard ship. Specifically, in the engineering department, which, if true, presents a significant-“

“A still?! In Engineering?!” While the volume of Mister Scott’s voice had not increased significantly, the…vehemence of his words certainly had.

Face flushed, he leaned forward across the table. “Do you know *dangerous* that is? Ethanol in gaseous form? And under extreme heat?”

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the chief engineer began gesticulating, his fork still clutched in his hand. “Aerosolized ethanol is extremely volatile. Just one spark could set off an explosion. Imagine the damage something like that could do to Engineering. It could take out some of the ship’s most important systems, including life support.”

“No Commander,” he continued, frowning, “there may be many of us who enjoy a tot of an evening, but nobody in Engineering – especially not me – would risk the safety of this ship or her crew for something so inconsequential.”

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Spock had been so focused on Mister Scott’s emotional tirade, he had not realized the captain was standing next to the table, looking curiously between himself and the chief engineer.

Mister Scott had obviously been unaware of the captain’s approach but recovered quickly. “No problem at all, Captain. Mister Spock had heard a rumor that there was a still in Engineering and I was just explaining why that could not be true.”

Captain Kirk smiled. “Of course. Ethanol it its gaseous form is highly flammable…”

“Exactly!” Mister Scott agreed.

Before either of the men could continue, Spock interrupted. “In no way did I mean to imply that Chief Engineer Scott would do anything to jeopardize the integrity of the ship or the safety of its crew.” Facing Mister Scott directly, he continued, “I apologize if what I said offended you.”

Scott waved off his apology before he had the chance to finish. “No offence taken, Mister Spock. None at all. You were right to bring this to my attention and I appreciate you telling me. If you hear anymore gossip about what may or may not be going on in my engineering department, please let me know.” Just as quickly as Mister Scott’s temper had flared up, it was gone and he had returned to his natural easygoing demeanor.

“Good!” the captain said, clapping his hands together. “Glad you were able to get that cleared up. And, thank you, Spock, for letting Scotty know what folks were talking about behind his back. Best to let the department heads know and let them stop the gossip at the source, right?”

“You are welcome, Captain.” Spock rose from the table. “I should be getting back to my station. Mister Scott,” he said, nodding to the chief engineer.

“Always good to talk with you, Mister Spock, and thank you again for telling me,” he replied, looking down at his lasagna and poking the now-cold pasta with his fork.

“I am glad I could be of assistance,” Spock said. “Captain,” he nodded to his commanding officer, who returned the gesture.

Relieved to have the matter settled, Spock headed out of the mess hall, he stopping to pick up an apple and a protein bar for Nyota. Perhaps he could convince her to take her next break with him in his quarters.

*****  
Kirk slid into the seat Spock had just vacated, watching as his first officer grabbed something from the snack case before making his way out of the mess.

He returned his attention to Scotty, who was dissecting his lasagna to get to the part near the center that was still warm.

“So…” Kirk began, finally getting Scotty’s attention, “botany lab, right?”

Scotty grinned, nodding. “Got it one, Captain. Safest place for it by far. And if that juniper that Sulu planted actually produces some berries, we’ll be having gin in our martinis, as is only right and proper.”

“You’re a man after my own heart, Scotty,” Kirk replied, laughing.

“Thank you, Captain,” Scotty said. “But you’ll have to let Doctor McCoy know that, unless we can get our hands on a barrel or two, whisky, bourbon or rye just won’t be poss-"

Before he could finish his question, there was an incoming message beep and both men checked their comms. “Sorry,” Scotty said, reading the message. “Looks like A’n’leth is having a problem replacing a coolant valve. Apparently, having seven fingers on each hand isn’t always helpful. If you’ll excuse me, Captain?”

“Of course,” Kirk said as Scotty got up from the table and grabbed his tray. Kirk decided he should get something to eat and went over to see what was available. As Scotty walked past on his way out of the mess, Kirk could hear his chief engineer muttering to himself.

“A still in Engineering… Daft, the lot of them…”


	3. Everybody knows James "T is for Tomcat" Kirk is obsessed with sex - no matter who's having it

After getting his lunch and a glass of water, Kirk searched for an open seat and noticed Bones sitting alone at a small table near the back of the mess. Before he could join him, he was interrupted by his yeoman.

“Excuse me, Captain?” Janice Rand asked, having appeared by his elbow as if by magic. She did that a lot, and it always made Kirk wonder if she had some kind of transporter technology hidden in that impossible hairdo of hers.

Hiding a flinch, he turned his attention to her, hands clutched around her ever-present PADD. “Yes, Yeoman?”

“You’d said earlier that you needed me to help with something,” she shifted the PADD under one arm and held her hands up making little twitching motions with the first two fingers of both hands as she said the word, “’delicate.’” 

He was so fascinated by her air quotes – who *did* that anymore? – it took him a moment to comprehend what she’d said. “Oh, yes, of course.” Fortunately, it was the tail end of the lunch rush, so there were a lot of empty tables to be had. Gesturing to one in the far corner, he said, “After you, Yeoman.”

He followed her to the table, greeting and chatting with his crewmembers as he passed.

After settling in, he set his tray to the side, leaning his arms on the table, hands clasped in front of him. “So, Yeoman, this ‘delicate,’” the air quotes were implied, “something I need your help with…” He paused, trying to figure out how to approach this to save him and Rand any embarrassment.

“So,” he began again, “I need some work done to my quarters.” She looked at him expectantly. “Specifically, additional insulation in the walls.”

She stared at him for a moment and then began taking notes on her PADD. “All right, Sir. Which walls? What kind of insulation? What reason should I give for the work?”

He sighed, murmuring, “This is what I was afraid of.”

“Sorry, Sir?” Rand asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head. “Isn’t insulation just insulation?”

“Not at all, Sir,” she said, as it was the most obvious thing in the world, “There’s insulation for temperature regulation, noise reduction, vibration dampening… So, your needs will determine the kind of insulation used.”

Kirk just stared at her, wondering how she seemed to know everything about everything. Apparently, the way he was looking at her was making her a little uncomfortable, because she started to shift in her seat.

“My father ran a construction company,” she explained, “and I worked for him every summer.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, it’s for noise reduction, then.”

She made another note on her PADD. Not looking up, she asked, “And which wall or walls need the insulation?”

“Can’t they just do all of them?” he shot back, still hoping he could get this done without having to go into too much detail.

“Sir, we will need to order materials and pull Maintenance crew off other projects to work on this. If you need all the walls done, then that’s what I’ll have them do, but the more work that’s done, the more that will cost and we only have so much in the Maintenance budget,” she explained.

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, which is why he’d asked for her help in the first place, but still… “Fine, I just need one wall.” Before she could ask, he clarified, “The one between my and Commander Spock’s quarters.

She didn’t react visibly, still tapping away on the PADD. “And the reason you need the work done, Sir?”

“To reduce noise, Yeoman,” he shot back. “I thought that would be obvious, considering I’ve asked for ‘noise reduction’ insulation.”

Looking up, she gave him a look that appeared to be equal parts respect and condescension. “Captain,” he sat up straighter. When she started addressing by his rank, he knew she was getting impatient. She often addressed him by his rank. “If some part of the ship’s construction is deficient, Starfleet wants to know about it so they can determine if it is a ‘fleet-wide problem or an isolated incident. They need to know if changes need to be made in how the ships are designed and constructed.”

She set down her stylus and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You know all this, Sir, and you already told me that this requires discretion. You know I’m discrete, so what’s the real issue?”

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “We couldn’t just say Spock snores like a shuttle engine, could we?” he asked plaintively.

She just stared at him, knowing that he already knew every repair was recorded and measured to ensure resources and time are being spent effectively. He couldn’t cook the books to hide this one.

Defeated, he leaned forward, gesturing for her to do the same. Their faces were centimeters apart.

“OK,” he said, “this is not going on any report or any maintenance request, but I’m going to tell you so you can help me figure out how to get this done without telling anyone else. Got it?”

She nodded, her expression confused.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed on. “You know Spock and Uhura are bonded, right?” She nodded. “And since the first officer’s quarters are much larger than the chief communications officer’s quarters, it makes sense that they would spend their private time together in his quarters, yes?”

She nodded again, this time looking uncomfortable. “Sir, I’m not sure I really need to-“

“No,” he interrupted her, “you do really need to, because *I* really need you to help me hide this. I’m sorry, Janice, but as awkward as this is, it will be orders of magnitude more awkward if this gets out.”

“OK, Sir,” she said.

“Despite what people may think, I really am not ruled by my libido, nor do I want to know about my friends’ and colleagues’ sex lives.” He took a deep breath. “And I especially do not want to know what Lieutenant Uhura sounds like when…” He let his voice trail off, knowing that Rand required no further explanation.

“Lieutenant *Uhura*?!” she hissed. Her voice was low, but Kirk still gestured for her to be quiet as he cast a quick glance around to make sure they weren’t being overheard.

“The both of them, actually,” he replied, “but she’s just more…high-pitched.” He leaned back in his seat. “Makes it harder to ignore, you know?”

She’d put down her stylus and rested her head in her hands, staring down at her PADD. “I really am sorry about this,” he repeated, “but I can’t sleep with earplugs and risk missing an important hail from the Bridge or something.” He felt bad for dragging her into this, but it had been almost six months and it turned out those rumors about Vulcan stamina were true.

“What about Doctor McCoy?” Janice asked, raising her head to look at him.

He could feel his face heat, but kept his expression neutral as he replied, “What, what about Doctor McCoy?”

She leveled him with one of her arsenal of no-nonsense stares. “Could the two of you just stay in his quarters?”

He continued to stare at her, refusing to engage her on the subject.

She sighed and shook her head, mumbling, “As if we don’t know…”

“What was that, Yeoman?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, not caring if it made him look defensive and petulant, since that was how he felt.

“All right,” she began again, “what if we approach this from the other side?”

Kirk’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What if we say that you’re doing this for Commander Spock’s comfort? He hasn’t said anything to you, but you’ve been told in the past that you and Doctor-” Jim glared at her and she rolled her eyes. “- that you and any partner you may be entertaining have a tendency to be loud. So, out of consideration for your first officer, you’re requesting additional insulation be added and he not be told since it might make him uncomfortable knowing the work was being done on his account.”

“That could work,” he murmured, considering the idea, “but there would still be questions.”

Janice nodded. “True, but if we say it’s a favor for Commander Spock, it shouldn’t be a problem for the guys in Maintenance to keep quiet.” With a downcast expression, she finished, “With the Commander being Vulcan and all.”

They both were silent for a moment and Kirk wondered if he would ever be able to truly comprehend the loss they’d all suffered when the planet had been destroyed.

He hoped not.

He cleared his throat, pulling them both out of their sad musings. “I think we have a plan. Let me know what I have to sign and who I need to speak with and I’ll take care of it.”

Janice jotted a few notes on her PADD. “Will that be all, Sir?”

“Yes, Yeoman, that will be all.” She stood up from the table. “Oh, and Janice?”

“Yes, Sir?” she replied, tucking her PADD under her arm.

“Thank you for your help,” he said, giving her a resigned smile. “I know this isn’t going to be easy and I really appreciate everything you do here.”

“You’re very welcome,” she answered with a smile. Turning to leave, she stopped and turned back to him. “One thing, Captain.”

Kirk looked up, his chicken satay halfway to his mouth, and asked, “Yes?”

“You’ll need to vacate your quarters while the work is being done. So, if you’re not already involved with Doctor McCoy, you might want to start, because the only other empty beds we have are triple bunks with the ensigns.” With a wide smile, she gave him a little salute and walked out of the mess as Kirk sat staring after her, mouth agape and skewer of meat dangling between his fingers.


	4. Everybody knows Captain Kirk is allergic to *everything*

Leonard was halfway through his buttermilk pie when Ensign Chekov grabbed his shoulder, looking panicked.

“Doctor McCoy, Doctor McCoy!” He was wide-eyed and out of breath, making Leonard think some kind of disaster had befallen the Bridge.

Looking around the mess, he spotted Jim at the opposite side of the room, quietly eating his lunch. Despite his relief that Jim was fine, Leonard was still on alert, wondering if there had been an accident in Engineering.

“Easy, Ensign, easy,” he soothed. “What seems to be the problem?”

“It’s the Captain, Sir,” Chekov answered, “You have to stop him!”

The young Russian sounded on the verge of a breakdown and Leonard took another glance over to where Jim was sitting, attention focused on the PADD in front of him as he absent-mindedly dipped some kind of meat on a stick into a small container of sauce.

Getting more confused by the second, Leonard gestured to the chair opposite him and said, “Why don’t you sit down, Ensign, and explain to me exactly what I’m supposed to stop the Captain from doing.”

Chekov went around to the other side of the small table, but looked as if he was just crouching over the seat, unable to relax enough to actually sit down. “It’s his lunch, Sir. You have to get to him before it’s too late.” He glanced over his shoulder at where Jim was sitting, “I think he’s got *peanut sauce*,” he finished with a terrified whisper.

Leonard froze for a moment, trying to suppress the urge to sigh, roll his eyes and rub his forehead simultaneously. The kid meant well and was genuinely concerned for Jim’s wellbeing. It was always reassuring to see the way the crew cared for and about their captain.

But this? This was just a pain the ass.

Before the Enterprise had even left Earth orbit, the crew was ready to mutiny when they found out that any meat, dairy, wheat or nuts in all the dishes had been replaced with a combination of tofu and textured vegetable protein. The chefs had worked long and hard to create a completely hypoallergenic menu in deference to their captain’s supposedly overactive immune system.

As a result, Jim’s first diplomatic mission didn’t involve trade talks or peace negotiations on some far-distant planet. No, his first mission was to ease any embarrassment or hurt feelings the kitchen crew might have had after learning that there was no need of the changes they’d worked so hard to implement. As a result, Jim’s first diplomatic victory came when he got the kitchen and replicators returned to the standard menu. His second was when he requested – and got – commendations for the kitchen crew in recognition of their hard work, explaining to the higher ups that having such a wide variety of food options available would give Starfleet even more flexibility when different races and species were onboard ‘fleet ships.

Despite the fact that the incident has become common knowledge, despite all the strange, otherworldly foods Jim has since consumed without a single problem, this was one rumor that refused to die.

Leonard had dealt with this so many times by now, he even had a standard rant prepared, but Chekov’s concern was just so damned *earnest*, he couldn’t bring himself to give his usual lecture.

“Oh, God,” Chekov whimpered as glanced back to see Jim finishing his fruit salad, “there’s cantaloupe, too.”

Leaning his elbows on the table, Leonard covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile at the kid’s melodramatics. Catching Chekov’s eye, he used his most reassuring tone. “It’s all right, Ensign. Captain Kirk can eat both peanuts and melon with no ill effects.”

While his shoulders slumped in relief, Chekov’s expression was still concerned. “But…but his allergies. There are so many things-”

“There are exactly two things, Ensign, neither of which can be found in any foods in the kitchen or replicators,” Leonard explained.

“But everybody saw him, with his hands and the,” Chekov gestured vaguely around his mouth.

Nodding, Leonard replied, “Yes, and if you recall the incident, then you also recall that I was there and administered both drugs that caused those reactions. But those were drugs, Ensign,” he continued. “I can assure you he has no severe allergies to any of the standard foods that have been deemed fit for human consumption.”

Chekov listened intently, visibly relaxing after Leonard’s reassurances that the bizarre and severe set of symptoms Jim developed during that harrowing day were not likely to be repeated.

“I am glad you’re looking out for the Captain, Ensign, and I know he appreciates it, too. But I can assure you that all the food here is safe for his consumption. Besides,” he added, “if he really was allergic to peanuts and melon, do you think he’d be eating them?”

Chekov looked abashed. “Of course not, Doctor, it was stupid of me,” he replied, staring at his hands clutched on the table top.  
Leonard knew Chekov was a fully trained, battle tested Starfleet officer. He also knew the kid had used is fresh-faced good looks to rack up an extensive list of conquests. Even so, looking at the young man’s abashed expression made Leonard feel like he’d just kicked a puppy.

“Pavel,” Leonard said gently, causing the younger man to look up at him in surprise, “it wasn’t stupid at all. It was thoughtful and loyal and perhaps a little bit of an overreaction.” Chekov nodded his understanding as Leonard continued. “Now, if somebody else mentions the Captain’s allergies, you can assure them that he can eat the same foods as the rest of us.”

He smiled at the younger man and received a similar grin in response. “Was there anything else you needed, Ensign?”

Shaking his head, Chekov rose from his seat. “No, Doctor. I should get back to my station since I just came here to get my communicator; I’d left it here earlier.” He held up the device he’d been clutching in his hand. “Thank you for talking with me and I apologize for worrying you.”

Leonard waved him off. “No apology necessary, Ensign. It’s our duty to look out for one another, right?”

“You’re right,” Chekov said, standing by the table, “Besides, I should have known you would never let anything happen to your boyfriend.”

With a brief nod and a “Have a good day, Doctor,” the young man left the mess as Leonard watched, momentarily dumbstruck.

“Angels and ministers of grace defend us,” he moaned, dropping his head into his hands.


	5. Everybody knows the Captain and the Doctor are a couple

“I think they’re on to us, Bones.” Leonard heard above him. Raising his head from his hands, he looked up at Jim standing by the table, hands on his hips.

Smirking, Leonard said, “Finally figuring that out, are you?”

Jim settled into the seat next to him, their knees touching under the table. “Yeah…maybe we’re not as subtle as I thought.” He smiled, chagrined, and brushed his fingers over the back of Leonard’s hand where it lay next to his on the table.

Turning his hand up, Leonard laced their fingers together, giving Jim’s hand a squeeze. “So, what do we do about it?”

“We could just say to hell with it and have sex right here in the middle of the mess,” Jim suggested with a chuckle as he leaned his body into Leonard’s.

Looking around the mess, Leonard noted the half a dozen personnel seated at tables around the hall. “We could,” he agreed, “though I don’t think it’s a very captainly thing to do. Do you,” he turned to look at Jim again, “Captain?”

“No, probably not,” Jim agreed with an exaggerated sigh. “It *would* be hot, though.”

“Yes,” Leonard agreed, “yes it would. But that’s what shore leave is for.”

Jim threw his head back, laughing. “And that’s why I love you, Bones; you’re always up for anything.”

“Almost anything, Jim,” Leonard said with a smile. “One of us has to be the responsible one in this relationship.” He looked down at their joined hands. “And as the responsible one, I should point out that we’re currently involved in display of affection in a rather public place.” 

“Is this a problem?” Jim asked.

Fingers still entwined, Leonard raised Jim’s hand to his lips and said, “It isn’t for me if it isn’t for you.” Eyes never leaving Jim’s, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Jim’s knuckles. “It’s not the same as sex on the table, but we can do that back in your quarters,” he murmured, giving Jim another kiss in the same spot.

Moving closer, Jim reciprocated by kissing Leonard’s hand. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Bones,” he replied, eyes still locked with the other man’s. “Does this mean you’ll stay the night tonight?” he asked, his lips brushing Leonard’s knuckles.

“If you want,” Leonard replied, his voice low as he gave Jim’s fingers a kiss before lowering their joined hands. “I think it’s about time we both stop doing the walk of shame, anyway.”

Jim’s smile grew wider. “You could finally finish moving your things into my quarters since you seem to leave something new every time you come over.”

“I could,” Leonard agreed, “though I don’t know if I could stand listening to your neighbors’… activities every night.”

“Already taken care of, Bones,” Jim said, “New insulation in the adjoining wall will be added soon. Though I won’t be able to use my quarters while the improvements are being made.”

Considering the information, Leonard said, “So, maybe it’s you who should be moving your things into my quarters for the time being.”

“Yeah,” Jim leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips, “I can do that.”

END


End file.
